While They Sleep
by BkWurm1
Summary: **Chlark** Chloe wakes in the middle of the night and checks in on her family. Mostly fluff. Set ten years after Clark stopped Darkseide. Established relationship- Sequel to "While She Sleeps" (can be read as a stand alone) Part of the "A Good Day, Great Life" universe.


**While They Sleep**

Chloe jolted up in bed, going from bleary to sharp in the seconds it took to realize she was awake not because of a cry but from the absence of crying. It was four am. The girls should already have been awake, wanting their breakfast in the grey predawn hours of the morning. She leapt from bed and hurried to the nursery only to pause at the thresh hold and lean against the door jam. All was peaceful in the Kent household.

Daddy was home.

A bright glow from the streetlamp outside stole in between the gap in the curtains. It added to the light of the Daily Planet nightlight in the corner of the room and brightened the space enough for her to see everything. The matching cribs along the back wall were empty but the cushioned easy chair between them was full. Three heads nodded to the right, sleeping. Two empty bottles rested on the nightstand and one sunny yellow blanket draped over the infants sprawled on Clark's slowly rising chest, a protective hand gently splayed on each back.

Watching them while they slept, peaceful and secure, created the most beautiful ache in her chest.

At six months, the differences in the twins were becoming more obvious. The jaunty little, stripped, caps they wore home from the hospital quickly rubbed off the few wisps of hair they'd sported during their entry into the world, but in the months since, Miss Moira Martha Kent had grown in a thick wave of jet black hair while little lady Lara Lynda Kent had spun sugar blond curls. Both girls had the look of their father, his kissable red lips, startling green eyes - and according to Dr. Emil's tests - the potential to share his dense molecular structure.

Until the twins were born and exposed to sunlight, their blood work registered normal - extremely healthy - but normal. Her tests also read normal unless you knew where to look so while Emile acted as primary physician and special consultant, he otherwise left her care in the hands of a local Metropolis OB/GYN. Both her pregnancy and delivery went without complication.

Actually, without complication was underselling it by a mile. She'd had the kind of pregnancy and delivery that induced slack-jawed envy and hatred. Just yesterday, Lois, eight months along with her baby boy, bloated and exhausted from junior's summersaults, spent the entire Skype session from D.C. accusing Chloe and all other mothers of colluding with the Baby Makers Council of America in order to trick the uninitiated into handing their bodies and minds over to nine months of societal sanctioned misery and torture. Chloe spent five minutes trying to convince Lois the BMCA didn't exist before Lois's husband interrupted and made her go take a nap.

Chloe smiled. Really, the most traumatic moment she experienced in her pregnancy came when she told Clark they were expecting a baby only for him to turn around and tell her, no, they were expecting two. For about ten seconds she wondered how Kryptonian men got pregnant, but then Clark sank to his knees and put his hands on her stomach and well the immediate aftermath was a bit fuzzy; she possibly might have fainted for a moment or just blacked out in panic.

Her fear lasted only until she'd been able to look into Clark's eyes. Gone went her anxiety. Arrived came a new sense of rightness. She'd laughed, joy bubbling out at the constant surprises life gave. She'd thrown her arms around Clark's neck and together giddy with happiness, they shouted their glee to the heavens as Clark took them spinning into the clouds. She was still spinning on a cloud.

Yes, the normal worries (and then some) remained, terms and conditions accepted by all parents like a second shadow whether or not the child came with extraordinary gifts, but the wonder of each present day and the promises of the waiting tomorrows fueled Chloe's faith in their happiness the way the earth's yellow sun charged the cells in Clark's body. Like all their greatest success stories, they would do this together.

They had years before they needed to worry over kicked out cribs or dented drywall, but if the original Mrs. Kent had been able to handle it then… Chloe bit her lip to hold back a chuckle. Grandma Martha probably could still handle it all over again, even double the trouble. No one should ever underestimate Clark's mother. What she continued to do behind the scenes to support not only her son, but all the super heroes in the world made Chloe with only her column, web site, side work for the JLA and regular reporting duties feel like a lazybones. Plus in spite of Martha's work in D.C., she still made time to be every bit the doting grandmother Chloe expected. A wistful pang flared next to her heart. Her mom would have adored the girls just as much.

While Chloe had been in Singapore, she left Moira in her familiar Star City nursing facility. Not being able to visit often hadn't seemed important. Even if she had been able to visit Moira every day - even all day – nothing would have dented the placid exterior on her mom's once radiant face. In her meteor induced daze, Moira responded to routine requests to sit or stand or eat or bathe but nothing got inside. She was an operating system without data. A body without the spark that made one a soul. Still, soon after Chloe returned to Metropolis, she moved her mother nearby. She made a point to visit each week for a little while, for her own sake if not her mother's.

The call came a month after she and Clark celebrated their first anniversary. Sometimes it was just like that, the doctors said; suddenly the body shut down, finally catching up to what the mind decided years before. Chloe discussed it with Clark and he supported her decision not to hook her up to a ventilator or a feeding tube. After so many years, Moira Anne Sullivan deserved to find peace.

Chloe stood vigil at her bedside those last twelve hours, rubbing lotion on her mother's cool, dry hands, applying balm to her cracked lips, and brushing the thick dark locks that the nursing staff had kept from ever going grey. She adjusted her pillows and tried tucking in the corners of the plush comforter the way Chloe remembered her mother doing for her when she was a little girl; there was little else she could do, but wait. To wait and to remember the woman who had once been mom.

Losing the final physical tie to her mother left an ache that would always be with her, but for more than a decade Moira Sullivan had only truly lived in memory and as her mother's breath turned ragged and then shallow, Chloe understood Moira would continue to live, unchanged and unforgotten, Chloe almost laughed at the cliché of it all but until that pause between life and death occurred, she hadn't understood, still wasn't sure she could explain it, but the comfort it brought was real.

Clark was with her those wretched, watchful hours, taking care of the hard details, fetching the coffee she needed to focus, forcing her to eat when the caffeine burrowing through her stomach lining wasn't enough, and most of all keeping hold on to her as she let go of the woman who'd already gladly given up her life to give her daughter a future. Tears came, hot and a bit bitter that she could do nothing with them but morn. Her days of healing anyone outside of herself were long over.

Emil labeled the remnants of her gift/curse an on-going rejuvenation. He said it meant she had more time. After all the time she'd wasted, it was welcome news, but it was an abstract concept and the other side effects of her "rejuvenation" had meant little in the here and now. They'd kept meaning little to her until the day Emil discovered her meteor altered cells were the key to bridging she and Clark's biological differences. They'd planned on adoption; instead, they had two miracles.

She counted three now as she continued to watch her husband and daughters softly slumber. A series of snuffled noises that sounded like a one sided conversation slipped from Lara. A bubbly, bright child, she was never silent. Clark was sure she was going to grow up and out talk her mother. Chloe let him have his amusement since she happily blamed him for Moira eating like a shrunken linebacker. On cue, Moira flexed her fists in the air and smacked her lips on an imaginary bottle. Chloe held her breath, waiting for one or all three to wake but Clark's steady breaths continued even while in his sleep he circled soothing patterns on one child's back and patted the others. A baby sized burp escaped from Moira and both girls quieted again.

They were the center of her world; these three, the sanctum of her heart. She smiled through a sheen of tears as the beautiful ache of the present drowned out the pangs of the past.

Outside on the street, a siren wailed; blue and red lights flashed past the window. She looked to her girls; they slept on undisturbed, lulled by the familiar sounds of their city. She looked at the face of her husband and met his watchful eyes.

"Hey," she softly greeted him. She glanced toward the window. "Do you need to…,"

Clark shook his head, shifting his one arm to secure both girls against his chest before he extended his other hand to Chloe.

"Come here."

The husky timber of his voice vibrated through the still air. She shivered. His voice beckoned her close as much as his outstretched hand did. She placed her palm against his. Heat. Comfort. The warmth of his skin sunk into hers. His fingers enfolded her hand as gently, but firmly, he pulled her down toward him until their noses bumped. Angling her head, she pressed a kiss on his waiting mouth, licking her lips and savoring the tingle from the brief contact as she backed away and shifted her eyes to their slumbering twins.

The urge to touch them, to connect to the other pieces of her soul, was impossible to resist. Gently she let the tips of her fingers glide over the soft, satin skin at the back of their necks. The thrum of life ran in a current just beneath the surface. Strength would grow from such fragility. Clark slid his arm around her waist gathering her closer to his side.

Leaving Moira and Lara to their slumber, she straightened and instead ghosted her fingers along the firm line of Clark's jaw. Her best friend, the love of her life, her partner, the anchor of her world and her safe harbor for all that she loved. Feelings welled up and left her aching to hold him and feel his heartbeat, but the last thing she wanted to do was disturb the perfect tableau before her. Still, something of her longing still must have shown.

Before a protest could form on her lips, Clark shifted everyone about like a magician pulling the tablecloth from beneath a set table. When the world stilled, Chloe was sitting sideways across his lap, his arm anchored around her waist, their girls still sleeping soundly against daddy's chest. Clark wagged his eyebrows, obviously very pleased with himself. Who was she to deny him his little pleasures? She snuggled against his side, leaning her head against the curve of his neck. She closed her eyes and smiled when she felt Clark press his lips to the top of her head.

Soft breaths from the tiny packages they'd created merged in unison to form the most soothing of lullabies. Waking to watch her husband and daughters while they sleep would always bring contentment – a contentment only be topped by sharing the moment with Clark. Together, they breathed in their happiness. The long road to the present meant never taking life's treasures for granted, but truly, their share of the bounty was embarrassingly rich.

As morning crept steadily closer, Chloe felt Clark's body relax beneath her into slumber once more; she though, gloried in staying wide awake. She had the life of which she'd long ago stopped dreaming. She planned on savoring every second. Worth the wait?

Hell yes.

_fin_

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End file.
